Lady Debling (Polin)

Chapter 1

- February 16, 1820 -   

"Any colour but purple or black," Pen said, scanning over many bolts of fabric.

Her old friend, Genevieve Delacroix, held up a soft aqua silk near her face. "Oh, your mourning period will be done next month, yes?"

Pen nodded, finding the blue shade a little too bright after a year of darker, muted colours. "I need gowns for the season, as befitting a widow."

The modiste scoffed lightly, draping a sheer silvery fabric across her chest. Pen's corset was quite visible through it. "I need more information than that. What type of widow are you?"

Pen was relieved the shop was empty, and they could speak freely. Genevieve knew and had kept her secrets for years. She gazed at her friend with open curiosity. "What do you mean?"

Chuckling, Genevieve poured out a couple glasses of white wine, and passed one to Pen. "You were a good wife to Lord Debling, taking care of his estates while he left for his adventures. And when you heard that he would not return, you observed the expected mourning period. You are a free woman now, Penelope. What kind of life do you want?"

Taking a sip of the wine, Pen let it slip slowly down her throat. It was a good vintage. She had developed a palette for such things in the last few years. Sitting down on a settee, she pondered the question.

"The only widows I really know are my mother, Lady Danbury and her friends. Most of them are women in their later years, with adult children. They seem to enjoy socializing with each other, hosting balls and dinner parties."

"Yes," the modiste agreed, with a bit of a smirk. "But then there are widows like Lady Arnold, who is still quite young and enjoys spending time with men."

Pen nodded, vaguely remembering the confident, lovely blonde dancing with Benedict Bridgerton in her last season. "She has been a widow for many years, and has not remarried."

Genevieve leaned forward. "She has her own money, and isn't that interested having children. Why shouldn't she enjoy the company of men?"

"But if she doesn't want to remarry, to have children, why bother with all that?" Pen asked, feeling a little confused.

Over the years, she had done her best to learn more about the wider world. Before Lord Debling left, he trained her on how to run the estate. He had a large library, and she read as much non-fiction as fiction over the years, learning all she could. She often had friends like Eloise as house guests, enjoying hearing their views of the world.

But some topics were not discussed in polite company. It was good having friends willing to stretch the bonds of propriety.

Genevieve arched an eyebrow. "May I ask, Penelope, about your... what is the polite term... ah, 'marital relations' with your husband?"

Pen found herself blushing, and it was hard to meet her friend's eyes. "Um, that was years ago, of course. What do you want to know?"

The modiste laid a warm hand on her forearm. "For some women, it is an unpleasant duty of marriage. But for many, it is quite enjoyable. Passionate."

There was a warm glow in her dark eyes, and Pen could tell her friend had experienced this type of passion. As far as she knew, Genevieve had never married, but she was not a member of the ton. Their strict rules didn't apply to her.

Pen blinked slowly, thinking back on the first year of her marriage. Lord Debling was a kind and handsome man, very gentle and caring. "He hoped I would get with child before he left on his voyage. Wanting a heir, if possible. So, he was very... ah, attentive." Pen admitted, feeling her face heating with embarrassment.

"So, you did come to enjoy it, then?" Her friend asked, pouring them more wine. "It can be good, when you are with an attractive man, even if you don't love each other, yes?"

Pen nodded. Although she had respected and cared for Lord Debling, she wouldn't say it had grown into love.

Her friend nudged her shoulder with her own. "Some widows miss this type of attention, and seek it with other men. Society mostly turns a blind eye, as long as it's done discretely."

Pen swallowed the rest of her wine, suddenly feeling like her mouth was very dry. It was a little strong, and she coughed a couple times.

By the time she had regained her composure, her friend was smirking widely at her. "Perhaps we should design gowns suitable for a variety of purposes. You will see what you want for this next phase of your life once you start mingling in regular society again."

"Perhaps that is for the best," Pen agreed, and happily settled into picking out fabrics as they caught up on gossip....

-A/N: This is my first Bridgerton fanfic, so please be kind, gentle readers.

-Mourning Periods: Sources vary a little, but many say that it was customary for a widow to be in deep mourning for her late husband for a year during the Regency period. She would wear black and other dark colours, and refrain from most social activities. There was a period called 'Half-mourning' after this, generally around 2 months long, where she could wear some lighter colours, like purple and lavender, and start going out a little more into society.